


the truth, ugly and beautiful

by Areiton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Study, Christmas Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Hopeful Ending, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that you loved him.You love him still.The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that love was never enough.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 169
Collections: 2019 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	the truth, ugly and beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/gifts).



> Oh wow this fic fought me. I restarted it four times. I am still not sure it's what you want but I truly hope you love it!!

The invitation, when it arrives, feels a little like an insult, and a lot like a dare, like he is taunting you and you--

You have never walked away from a dare in your life, not when you were eighty pounds of frail bones and fury, not when you were lost in century not your own, not when the whole world and the man you love stood between you and your brother. 

You sure as hell won’t start now, not when you’ve been waiting almost five years for him to crack open the door. 

You send your confirmation, and smirk because Tony Stark might have taunted you, but you’re getting exactly what you want. 

~*~

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that you loved him. 

You love him still. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that love was never enough. 

~*~ 

When you step out of the car, Tony pauses, and looks at you. He’s talking to Rhodey, and there’s a smile on his lips, a light looseness to his shoulders that you only ever saw when he was in his workship, when he was drifting near sleep, naked on your chest. 

When he was happy and felt safe. 

You didn't think you'd ever see him like that again, and it aches in your gut, to see it as he stands near Rhodes and absently pats the child's back. 

Rhodes speaks first, breaks the tension gathering before Tony can speak up. "Didn't think we'd see you here, Rogers. You don't get out of the city much." 

You shrug. It's true, but the corpse of the city you once loved isn't going to hold you, not when Tony is here, bright and beautiful. 

"Everyone leaves for the holidays, don't they?" you ask, and shove your hands in your pockets so you don't reach for Tony. 

He isn't yours, and he doesn't want you. Sometimes, in the long list of ways the world has gone wrong, you think that is the hardest to understand. 

The baby shifts, and makes a quiet, displeased noise, and both Tony and Rhodes attention shifts, away from you, to Morgan. 

"Get her inside," Rhodes says, gentle the way he only ever is with Tony. "I'll get Cap sorted." 

Tony spares you a quick look and then goes. 

~*~ 

You remember the terror, when he was still among the missing. 

The fear and grief hot on the heels of losing Bucky and Sam. You remember Rhodes, and his furious denial, his refusal to believe that Tony was dead, and how you hated him for believing what you couldn't. 

You remember running to him, when Carol landed the wrecked ship and Tony limped out, shattered, devestated and lined with grief, but alive, so fucking alive it almost sent you to your knees. 

You remember the feel of him under your hands, the mindless way he stared at you, the shattered sound of his voice, when he said, "I lost the kid." 

You didn't understand then. 

You aren't sure you ever will. 

~*~ 

He finds you after Morgan is asleep in her cradle. 

"You came," he says, standing in the doorway of your room. It's larger than you need, with bright natural light, and you wonder if he chose it for you, for the light that begs you to sketch and paint. 

You refuse to let yourself hope. 

"I said I would," you says, evenly and Tony snorts. 

"You say a lot of things, Cap," he says, and you flinch. Almost retreat. He watches you, curious and detached. 

"It doesn't fix anything, you know. It doesn't change anything." 

"Then why did you invite me?" you ask and Tony's lips tighten, a thin, furious line. 

He turns away and leaves you standing there, empty handed and answerless. 

~*~ 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that loving Tony is like breathing. Like throwing your shield and trusting it to return. Like fighting with Bucky at your back and running with the serum in your veins. 

It's easy and natural and right. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that loving Tony is the hardest thing you've ever done. 

~*~ 

You come down in the morning, and Morgan is there, babbling in her bassinet, little fisted hands flailing in the air. You can hear Tony in the kitchen, grumbling low and indistinct, and the scent of coffee just starting to fill up the air. 

You look at her, this tiny person he created, who you adore and are never allowed near. She goes still, eyes wide and dark and watching you. 

And she giggles, a bright sunlight sound like water on smooth rocks and you grin back, helpless and inordinately fond. 

You back away, before Tony returns, and makes you leave. 

~*~ 

There was one Christmas that you spent together. 

One year where the world was still and perfect, because he was yours and you were his, and you were better together, even if the world made no goddamn sense at all. 

You stayed in the mansion, that year, and Natasha stopped by for Christmas eve, and Rhodes called from the middle east, but it was you and Tony, and you loved it. 

You were greedy for it, for his attention on you and no one else. For his lean, scarred body gilded gold and naked by the fire, stretched out for you and your pleasure. For the warmth of his arms when he kissed you awake from a nightmare and the softness of his body when he curled into you on the couch. 

You don't remember what you gave him, but you kept the sketchbook he gave you, filled it up with drawings of him, and it was one of the three things you had Natasha retrieve, when you snatched up Bucky and ran. 

You miss it. That Christmas when the world felt distant and unreal and all that existed was Tony, warm and happy in your arms. 

You miss a thing that barely existed, a thing you cannot go back to. 

You think it's the story of your life, to be in a constant state of longing. 

~*~ 

You keep watching the door as breakfast progresses and Rhodes finally says, quiet enough that Tony doesn't hear where he's humming to Morgan, "She isn't coming." 

This is what you know about Pepper and Tony's short lived marriage--it was fueled by grief. 

By devastated desperation, two lost people clinging to what they had in a world torn apart. 

You saw that, when he fell into her on that lonely field the night he came home. 

You saw it when she shattered, sobbing, a pregnancy test in her hand. 

You saw it when they left seats open at the wedding that you weren't invited to, seats marked for the boy he lost in space and the family she lost on earth, the holes carved into their life by grief and Thanos, that they navigated by clutching each other and stumbling blind. 

They fell apart. 

Grief isn't enough to sustain a marriage, and love--love isn't enough either. 

You know damn well that loving Tony more than life itself isn't enough. 

~*~

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that it is impossible to not love Tony. Pepper loves him. Rhodes does. Natasha loves him with a fierce protectiveness that stuns you. 

You loved him. You still love him. You think, you will go to your grave or another icy bed, and you will love him, still. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that loving Tony is easy. It just isn't _enough_. 

~*~ 

He avoids you. 

You notice because you notice everything that Tony does, because you are in a small cabin with him and Rhodes and a small baby and there's not much in the way of distractions. You notice because you are acutely aware of where he is, and the way he shies away from you, the way he uses Rhodes and Morgan as a shield just like he used to use work. 

But. 

He did that only when he was frustrated and angry, when he pushed you away out of fear of whatever the hell he was feeling and refusing to talk about. 

He does the same thing now and you smile and retreat, go to the kitchen and make ginger snaps that draws him to the counter, hovering like he wants to bolt, but eyes bright and curious and hopeful. Morgan is babbling on his shoulder, wrapped in a red and gold onesie, the Ironman faceplate resting on the top of her head.

She's the cutest thing you've ever seen and you want to hold her so bad it's an ache in your bones, an unsettling _need_ that you weren't expecting. 

You press it down, tuck it away and smile at him. "You still like ginger snaps?" 

Tony steals them when they're still too hot and winces, blowing on his fingers as he shoves them in his mouth, and you smile, indulgent and hand him coffee, and think--

There's hope. 

He's tolerating you in his space, and taking the food you make him, just like he had in the early days, when you were just a teammate and he was just Howard's son, and you had no idea what he would become to you. 

You think it's a huge step back--but maybe it's a step forward, too. 

~*~ 

If Natasha is startled to see you here, she doesn't show it when she comes in, a flurry of snow and black clothes and long, warm scented hair. 

But then, Natasha never gave away much, and the end of the world didn't do much to change that. 

She kisses Tony and hugs Rhodes and retreats to the guest bed, coming back in loose sweat pants and a long sleeved SI shirt, hair tucked into a loose bun, and immediately makes grabby hands for Morgan. 

Tony laughs, an almost soundless thing that entrances you, and you try very hard not to think about how much it hurts, that he hands his daughter over so easily to Natasha, smiles gentle and unguarded, while Natasha cuddles her close and whispers low Russian to her. Morgan watches, eyes wide and bright and beautiful and you think--maybee this isn't where you belong. 

Maybe you only want to belong here, but maybe--maybe the space that you filled is closed up, filled in, no longer there. 

Tony is surrounded by the people he loves, by Natasha and Rhodey and his precious baby girl and there is the ghost of a boy you never knew, hanging in the air, evident in the stocking on the mantle, and you--

You don't belong here. 

You stand abruptly, and retreat, because that thought cuts in a way you can't stand, that even after the war and Siberia and Wakanda and Thanos--even after _everything_ , you can not stand the pain of knowing Tony doesn't love you, doesn't need you, doesn't _want_ you. 

~*~ 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that you love him and always have. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that he doesn’t love you. 

~*~

The door creaks and you don’t move. The sound of laughter carries up the stairs, but here, in the quiet room that he gave you, there’s a peaceful silence. 

A sad silence. 

“You left,” he says and you close your eyes. Tip your forehead against the window pane, the chill of it chasing shivers down your spine. “You didn’t need me there.” 

“I don’t _need_ you anywhere,” Tony huffs. 

You know. 

You always knew that Tony didn't need you. He never had. You were the one full of need in the relationship and then--then you ruined it. 

His hand on your shoulder is familiar and strange and it makes you twist, turn to him, anxious and hopeful. 

You didn't know, when you accepted the invitation that felt like a challenge, that it would be like this. 

You didn't know it would hurt this much. 

"I want you there," Tony says, softly. "I think--I think it's better that way, Steve. Needing each other was never good for either of us." 

"Tony--" 

Tony shifts, and Morgan in his arms makes a soft cooing noise, drags your gaze down to her. 

"We're all we have left, Cap. And I think--I think it's time we hold onto that and each other."

"Even though you hate me?" you blurt, and hate yourself for asking. 

Tony shrugs and smiles and it's sad, so goddamn sad. 

"I never hated you, Steve. I loved you. That's why it hurt so much." 

~*~ 

You rejoin them, and Rhodey eyes you, suspicious but warm, and you think--maybe it wasn't a dare. 

Maybe he wants you here. 

You let yourself cling to that hope, while he herds you to the table to wrap presents and shoves a glass of eggnog into your hand and Natasha smiles, pleased and smug from her perch on the couch, Morgan asleep against her chest. 

~*~ 

You go to sleep and you wake too cold, your teeth chattering. The windowpane is frosted white and you can see snow, thick and white, and lit by the moon and you shiver, violently, and fumble for the blanket that Tony said was here. The closet is empty and you remember abruptly that you took it with you downstairs when you slipped into your flannel pants and sweater, and returned to the living room for a movie. 

It's down there, still. 

The cold seeps in, a familiar embrace, and your breath catches, hard and harsh in your throat, and you clench your eyes against the dark tipped light, the edges of white. 

You can't breath. 

You can't breath, there's water in your lungs and it's _freezing_ , you're _freezing_. 

You gasp and you stumble for the door, for the light because you can't freeze again. 

You don't want to freeze again, don't want to lose this life you've built, the people you love. Tony. 

Morgan. 

You hit the wall and somewhere far away, there's a scream, shrill and furious and then hot hands wrap around you, catch on your face and warm brown fills up your gaze and you shudder and fall into Tony. 

~*~ 

You slept with him for the first time after a panic attack. 

Not the first one he coaxed you through. But that was when you kissed him, when you bore him down into your bed and spread him open and swallowed his whines and hungry, desperate little noises. 

You think he has always taken care of you. And you--you wanted to take care of him. 

And then Bucky came back from the dead and you didn't take care of Tony, too caught up in your brother and how you failed him and when you had a panic attack, he didn't coax you through it, and you woke up one day and realized--

Chasing Bucky, you found your brother. 

But you lost the man you loved. 

~*~ 

Warm, strong hands coax you to a soft bed, push you into pillows that smell faintly familiar, like coffee and metal and oil and baby powder. A familiar body curls around you and you shiver, and bask in the heat of him, the comfort of him and take your first full breath in long long moments. His hands are solid and steady and the blanket he drapes over you feels like molten fire, a heat you crave, and you aren't freezing, you aren't dying again, you aren't losing him. 

He's here. 

He's here and you are, and his lips feel like a brand against your temple, a heat you arch into and want _more_ of, and he murmurs, "You're safe, sweetheart. You're safe." 

In Tony's arms, you sleep and for the first time since you watched Bucky vanish, you feel safe. 

~*~ 

The sound of a baby crying wakes you, a second before Tony moving away from you does. 

You blink but the morning is still dark and it isn't a dream, this is Tony's bed, and you are welcome in it, for the moment, however brief. 

The chill feels far away and for a moment, as you listen to the creak of the door and Tony's voice, low and familiar and soothing his little girl, you feel a flush of hot embarrassment that you fell apart at the hint of cold. 

You shift, and move to stand, but Tony is back and his dark gaze is soft and sleepy, and Morgan is a tiny bundle of blue and red against his bare chest, a bottle in his hand. 

"You can stay," he murmurs, and you blink at him. 

"You should stay," he says, decisive, and you lay down next to him, a cocoon of warmth with Morgan between you and his big dark eyes watching you. 

It feels like a dream, and it's one you don't want to wake from. 

~*~ 

Morgan wakes you with tiny kicks and a wet cry and you reach for her before you wake. 

Tony reaches her first, and it jerks you fully awake more than anything could, his calloused hands brushing yours aside and pulling his daughter close. 

You blink at him, and her, and stand. 

Because this--this was a dream, a stolen moment in the dark and in the light of day, the truth is--Tony Stark doesn't trust you. 

He has no reason to. 

~*~ 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that he won't let you touch Morgan, because the last time you touched him, you almost killed him. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that you understand. 

~*~ 

"Steve," he says, his voice sharp and clear in the quiet of the cabin. 

You look at him and it _hurts_ , a glass dagger shard digging in your heart. 

He's soft and beautiful and happy and a little girl you ache to love and treasure is blinking at you from his arms and this--

This is everything you want, everything you have always wanted with Tony. 

"Take her for a sec," he says, and he presses her into your hands, and kisses you, quick and sweet and shocking, and you watch him dart away, for coffee and a bottle and the sun rises over the lake on Christmas morning. 

~*~ 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that you love him. You always have. 

The truth, ugly and beautiful, is that he loves you. 

And you think, _maybe_ that is enough. 


End file.
